


you drive a person crazy, it's dangerous

by lawltam



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, M/M, Mafia AU, Suggestive Themes, haikyuusanta2018, some colourful language!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-25 05:39:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17115467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lawltam/pseuds/lawltam
Summary: A nightingale does not -should not- partner with its predator. It is not the natural order of things.(in which Akaashi Keiji is a mafioso and Bokuto Koutarou is a wingless predator.)





	you drive a person crazy, it's dangerous

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BnessZ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BnessZ/gifts).



> this was for a hq secret santa exchange but i was meaning to write a mafia au anyway which is perfect!!! this was honestly so much fun to write ugh i wish i hadn't procrastinated so much on this so that i could've spent more time on it but tbh i think it turned out pretty well?? anyway yeah!!! merry christmas ness!!

Money, Akaashi decided, was what the world centered around. It made the world fight as certain countries flourished with a rich economy while others were the dirt on the ground. It was the sole reason humanity was in shambles.

Akaashi, not for the first time, thought money was nothing to kill over, and yet, here he was.

It all started with a poor decision made in his early years of adulthood. He was clever, yes, but still a naïve little boy that was thrown into the world right after high school. He needed cash quickly, and a rather kind fellow approached him with an easy job. _Meet up at this location to deliver a product of sorts_ , she had said, an innocent smile on her face and a slip of paper between her index and thumb.

He should’ve realized in the moment how fucked he would be if he went, but he didn’t, because, as mentioned beforehand, he was still a naïve boy. So he went, a mysterious package in his backpack and a vague image of the person he was to meet up.

He didn’t realize, however, that he was in fact in the middle of a drug deal. Him, a straight-A student fresh out of high school, with a bag of pure cocaine on his back, meeting in a dark alleyway with some random stranger. It was a very brief exchange; a quiet _you got it?_ and a nod, handing over a bag covered by duct tape and receiving a thick roll that made Akaashi’s head spin.

When he had gotten home that night, bag light yet feeling so heavy, he shakily texted his friend - the one that had given him the job in the first place.

_**(To: Shirofuku Yukie)** What was in the bag?_

_**(From: Shirofuku Yukie)** the exchange went well?_

**(To: Shirofuku Yukie)** Yes.

_**(To: Shirofuku Yukie)** What was in the bag, Shirofuku-san?_

_**(From: Shirofuku Yukie)** only if you promise to delete this chat after!!_

Akaashi’s fingers stilled over his phone. His room suddenly felt both too cold and too hot at the same time. He felt a heavy regret start to settle in his belly, nauseating. What could possibly need to be deleted from a chat, considering they were barely nineteen years old?

_**(To: Shirofuku Yukie)** Okay. Promise._

_**(From: Shirofuku Yukie)** you sure you want to know?? i dont think youll like the asnwer!!_

_**(To: Shirofuku Yukie)** I think I can handle it._

_**(From: Shirofuku Yukie)** drugs!!!_

_**(From: Shirofuku Yukie)** cocaine, actually!_

The world stopped in its tracks, sudden and unwanted. Akaashi felt a numbing static roam his entire body. _Drugs? Narcotics?_ This can’t be real. How would have Shirofuku gotten them? What kind of world did she live in?

_**(To: Shirofuku Yukie)** Funny._

_**(From: Shirofuku Yukie)** you think im joking?? man akaashi youre no fun_

_**(From: Shirofuku Yukie)** you literally went to some shady place, idk where, met up with a shady guy, gave him a shady package and received some shady money_

_**(From: Shirofuku Yukie)** you just did your first drug deal, my man._

_**(To: Shirofuku Yukie)** My first? I sincerely hope you’re joking._

_**(From: Shirofuku Yukie)** nop!! youre part of a huge crime syndicate now, whether you like it or not_

Upon reading that text, Akaashi felt a flux of emotions. Unknowingly, he had taken the role of a drug dealer, roped into a world of narcotics and black marketing. Was he happy about it? Of course not; are livestock excited about being sent to the slaughterhouse?

With no more words to text, yet so many thoughts to be spoken, Akaashi threw his phone against his bedroom wall and went straight to sleep.

It was the start of a black and white world, one of the legal and illegal. One that depended on if you got caught doing the latter.

The next morning, he opened his chat with Shirofuku and deleted all the texts.

.  
. 

Gloved hands reached for a envelope - one that was small in size and neat, sealed off with crimson wax. A bit fanciful for the mafioso’s tastes, but who was he to talk, with a glass of one of the world’s finest pinot between his index and middle fingers? He gently pried open the letter, fingers steady. After all, he wouldn’t want to ruin the contents of such an important message.

The thin paper crinkled under his flitting touch and, next to a lit candle, casted shadows on his mahogany table. He could very well throw the envelope into a raging fire, claim that he’d never received it and run the chances of nearly wiping out the entirety of his own organization, but he was feeling fairly generous that night. _‘Perhaps it’s the wine’_ , he mused.

 

_Addressed to: ‘Nightingale’  
Sent by: ‘Hummingbird’_

_Sir, I’ve got news! It’s kind of a nuisance to send you letters, but this is important! Word on the street is that the ‘Horned Owl’ is active again!!_

 

Akaashi’s eyes trained on that last sentence. _Horned Owl, hmm? How interesting._ He remembered that particular fellow quite well; stray strands of greyed hair - be it dyed or of natural age, Akaashi did not know - and a pair of golden eyes, noticeable even under dim lights and heavy gunfire. He couldn’t forget, even if he wanted to.

 

_Apparently, he’s temporarily joined the ‘Stray Cats’ until he can contact his lackeys again. You gave them quite the scare last time, after all! Can’t really expect them to recover after that, but the guy seems insistent! We’ll see how it goes, won’t we?_

__

__

_I’ll contact you later on with updates on the stitch!_

_–Hummingbird_

 

Akaashi set down his glass, blew out the candle and went to bed, head full of thoughts.

_The Horned Owl, huh? What could this wingless predator possibly be planning?_

.  
.

 

Akaashi wasn’t dumb. Years of experience on the field were trying to hold him back, but he ignored his instinct. He observed his surroundings, half-lidded eyes trailing over rusty bits of steel and smashed-in concrete bricks. An abandoned construction site, what an interesting meetup location. He didn’t know if it was a tactically clever decision though; how could someone possibly cover all the blood if someone were to, say, _accidentally_ pull the trigger?

Again, Akaashi wasn’t dumb; he knew this was trap. Every aspect was just asking him to get taken away by some low-ranking mafioso from an opposing organisation that was hellbent on getting revenge on Akaashi for killing a loved person of theirs. It’s been foolishly attempted before. 

“Ah, you came! I was wondering if you actually would, but here you are, huh?” Akaashi stilled at the voice. It wasn’t one he recognized, but who really uses their real voices in his line of business? Only fools did that, and Akaashi concluded that the person standing approximately ten feet behind him was nothing other than a fool. 

“Yes,” He started, carefully, because he had always payed caution to his words, and after all, anything he said can and will be used against him. “Well, I’m here, so let’s talk business, yes?”

“Turn around first, mister Nightingale. I like to look at my work partners when I talk to them.” The way it was said sounded nice enough, but Akaashi was bright enough to catch the hint of authority in the voice. He held in the impressed smirk that was threatening to break. He did as instructed, and when he caught a flash of golden eyes in front of him, he almost did a double take.

_You’re fucking kidding me, right?_

“Well, aren’t you quite the handsome little birdy, aren't cha?” The Horned Owl looked at him, a smug grin on his face that Akaashi wanted nothing more than to slap it right off. 

“When I had gotten a letter telling me to meet up here, I could never predict that the Horned Owl would be here. What could he _possibly_ want from me, a low-level mafioso?” Akaashi feigned innocence. This is how it always went. Someone would unexpectedly catch a high ranking _Aviary_ member to use as a bargaining chip; Akaashi had seen it happen so many times already - experienced it himself. It never worked out. These dummies always believe themselves to be more clever than the Nightingale himself. 

“Well, as you may know, the reputable gang of Predators has been disbanded, because of you,” He started, orbs of lustrous gold following every movement Akaashi would make, from the sweep of his eyes to the shifting of his weight. “And frankly, I’m not too happy about it.”

“Can’t imagine you would, considering you’re here, holding me hostage. Really, what’s the point of bringing me, you cursed owl? Get on with it already. I don’t really have the time to be wasting with you right now.” Akaashi was lying. He had all the time in the world, and even if he didn’t, he would _make_ the time for it. How could he possibly ignore such an interesting situation because of a mere _lack of time?_

“I want you to help me find the rest of the _Predators_.” The Owl’s voice came out fairly authoritative, but even Akaashi could notice the slight unease in his body language: stiff shoulders, a slight furrow to his eyebrows and pinched lips. Had someone else seen this interaction, they would’ve claimed that Akaashi had no choice but to cooperate.

Akaashi, however, would beg to differ. He would’ve argued that the Horned Owl was in no position to bargain; his entire organisation had been set to a flame, and here he was, asking for _Aviary’s_ help. This predator had been knocked off its spot at the top of the food chain. 

“Why should I listen to you?” His face held its passiveness, but even Akaashi could hear it in his own voice: the lilt of a taunt - or, perhaps it was one of pity.

“When my organisation gets together again, we will grant you immunity in our territory, for a day, at best.” Horned Owl - curse this man - had the audacity to look smug, and for good reason too. Immunity in the entirety of East Tokyo? Even if it was for a day at most, _Aviary_ could get away with _so_ much stuff.

The offer was tempting, extremely so, but Akaashi didn’t have the authority to green light this operation. Such a decision could only be made by a higher-up of _Aviary_. 

“As much as I’d like to say yes, all I can do is report this to my boss. It’s not my - ”

“That’s not a problem, Mr. Nightingale, because I’m not asking _Aviary_ ’s help, I’m asking for _your_ help. In fact,” Horned Owl grinned, and Akaashi suddenly felt like a prey. “I’d like it if this stayed between the two of us.”

For Akaashi, the world stopped. In any other case, someone would want _Aviary_ ’s help, Akaashi would tell them he would _‘think about it’_ and then never come into contact with them again. 

But this was different. 

In the situation that Akaashi would agree to these conditions, the operation succeeded, and the _Aviary_ bosses found out, he could get hung. His actions could be considered treachery against the organization. He was, after all, conspiring with a member of an opposing gang without authorization. He was a high ranking official, but not so much so that the people behind the scenes would dote on him. 

On the other hand, _Aviary_ could possibly benefit from this. They might see this as an opportunity to overthrow one of their greatest enemies, which would be considered such a huge success that Akaashi’s name would be embedded into history. 

“Alright then.”

.  
. 

 

Let’s get this straight: Akaashi had no interest in the Horned Owl - not at all. The latter was _interesting_ , to say the least. He had insisted on using real names, and since Akaashi wasn’t a fucking dumbass, he refused. The Owl, however, had leaned into his ear and whispered a surname, one that Akaashi found himself thinking about quite often nowadays.

“Bokuto,” he had breathed, then pulled away, expecting a reaction on the mafioso’s face, only to see a blank slate. “Awh, Birdy, I thought you would’ve been a bit more excited to know my name!”

“An error, I assure you.” Akaashi took a sip of his coffee and examined the man in front of him. Spiked, bleached tips - the type of bleached colour that looked more grey than the regular blond, golden eyes that seemed as deep as the universe. _He looks good_ , Akaashi thought, fleeting and hushed. 

Around them, a coffeehouse with a couple people here and there. The atmosphere would’ve nice, had Akaashi been here on any other occasion. At least they didn’t seem too suspicious. Bokuto was very insistent about coming here, for reasons that Akaashi couldn’t even begin to fathom. 

“I don’t understand how I could possibly be of any help to you, Bokuto-san.” Not to be a negative Nancy, but Akaashi truly didn’t have any idea of where to even begin this impossible quest of theirs. Who knew what happened to the rest of the _Predators_? He had merely assumed they were all dead after the confrontation a few months ago, but Bokuto must be rubbing off him: a feeling tugged at Akaashi’s guts - of suspicion? Hope? Assumption that Bokuto’s comrades were still alive. 

“Don’t worry about it, Birdy! All you need to do is do everything I say! Can you do that for me, Pretty Boy?” Bokuto’s smile was infectious. Akaashi cursed it to hell. He found himself thinking about it quite often, not because Akaashi had a crush, because he doesn’t, trust me, but because, really, who was this Horned Owl? Low-level members of _Aviary_ had reported to him, telling him that the Horned Owl was one of the most fearless, monstrous, unbeatable mafiosos in the area, but with Bokuto in front of him, drinking a hot chocolate, Akaashi couldn’t see it. How could a person who gets excited over volleyball magazines be part of one of the biggest crime syndicates in the Tokyo area?

Akaashi didn’t answer him, instead opting to take another sip of his coffee. 

“So, I know that _Aviary_ has a really big bank of information, so I was hoping that you could find some info about my comrades. Anything, really.” Bokuto slid him a paper, wrinkled and small. “And remember, this is just between us two, ‘kay?” 

Akaashi only hummed in acknowledgement, then watched Bokuto pull a trench coat over his shoulders and leave the coffeehouse. 

.  
. 

“Ah, of course, sir. Right this way.” 

Akaashi walked through the guarded door, waited until it shut close behind him, leaving him all alone. Cameras were ‘malfunctioning’ as well, how coincidentally convenient. 

He allowed himself a small smile, then slid into a chair.

What the Horned Owl wanted was fairly easy: go into the main computer with admin access, and voila! All the information he could possibly want in one place. This really was too easy.

“‘Tendou Satori’, huh? Where did you scurry off to, you wingless eagle?” Akaashi’s eyes scanned the screens, desperate for any recent information about this particular redheaded individual. Seemingly _Predator_ ’s ace in a hole: a man that finished off any and all missions assigned to him, as well as an entire task force under his command. Impressive, really. 

_‘Not nearly impressive as me, though’_ , Akaashi thought briefly, smugly, before he read a set of lines that made his head spin. 

“Still alive? Well, what’s the point?” He wondered out loud, and if he sounded a bit outraged, it was precisely because he was! A single eagle escaped his grasp, hm? How incredibly undignified and unprofessional of him. But alas, this case was out of his hands; he was, after helping a member of _Predators_

_. That action in itself was more shameful than anything he has and ever will do._

‘But then again,’

He thought, gaze drifting to the door,

‘That owl would never know the truth about what happened to his comrade, would he?’

Akaashi, later, with blood on his shirt and one bullet less in his gun magazine, realized that working with a predator would make him nothing more than a predator itself. 

.  
. 

“G’morning, Birdy!” Bokuto settled into the chair across from with a cheery grin Akaashi and shrugged off his coat. The weather had been quite bad that week - a lot of rain. 

“To you as well, Bokuto-san.” He observed Bokuto from the rim of his mug. What had changed? What made Akaashi think of Bokuto as less than nuisance every time they met up? Was this a Stockholm situation? He denied it. He doesn’t particularly seem to be sympathizing him - not anymore, at least. At that point, Akaashi saw Bokuto as an endearing figure in his life, despite only having personally known him for two or three weeks. 

(Two or three months after having eradicated the organisation that Bokuto had worked so hard to build from the ashes.)

“So, any news? I gave you a hefty two weeks to find info, like you’d asked.” Bokuto looked at him, hopeful, with such expectation that it almost hurt Akaashi. 

‘This is for the better of things’

, he told himself. Work, as always, came before a mere acquaintance.

“I’m sorry Bokuto-san, but there’s… Nothing.”

Akaashi wished he felt bad for lying, especially when he was comforting Bokuto, holding the older man in his arms as he fell silent. 

.  
. 

Akaashi dreamt of Bokuto, once. He dreamt that he was sitting in front of Bokuto in a restaurant, similar to the way they do in the cofffeehouse, except the atmosphere was much more different. He couldn’t tell how, but Akaashi felt like he was smiling, and Bokuto, him, he was sporting one of the largest grins ever, one that rivalled the sun. 

The restaurant was fairly nice, if the dim lighting and decorations told him anything. He briefly wondered why he was here. It wasn’t as if the two of them would actually go to such a nice place; they really weren’t that close. 

It wasn’t until Bokuto asked for a toast, and the two of them raised glasses filled with wine, that Akaashi really understood what was going on. 

The light caught onto their hands - or rather, two matching gold bands on their ring fingers. 

Akaashi woke up crying, and yet, he didn’t know why.

.  
. 

Akaashi found himself going to the coffeehouse rather often, despite not needing to meet up with Bokuto anymore. Their task was over, and there really wasn’t a need to keep in contact anymore. He terminated that relationship as soon as possible. 

As promised, Bokuto allowed them a 24-hour period of immunity in East Tokyo to _Aviary_. Akaashi’s bosses were fairly pleased with that, even though contact with enemy organisations was rather punishable, but they had let him slide with this one. After all, Akaashi was a model employee, and he had perfect credit. Nothing had stopped him from getting that promotion. 

However, as much as Akaashi liked his newer, better position in the association, he would find himself thinking of a pair of golden eyes - ones that portray betrayal. He wondered if he did the right thing, before reprimanding himself. Of course he did. There isn’t anything more important than _Aviary_. 

.  
. 

Two months. 

He hadn’t seen Bokuto in two months. 

(Not that he was counting the days, or anything.)

Akaashi didn’t know why his mind kept drifting to Bokuto. He’s had so many acquaintance like him before, but there was something fundamentally unforgettable about that predator that drove him crazy. He wanted to forget, to live on with his life as he normally would.

The universe would have none of that.

That night, Akaashi had been in the coffeehouse pretty late. It was open 24 hours anyway. He was sitting in the corner, with tea and a book. He rather enjoyed doing this; it took his mind off things, provided a temporary distraction. 

A bell chimed, and the door opened. He briefly heard the barista ask for the customer’s order, and a quiet voice that Akaashi couldn’t quite catch. It didn’t matter though. It wasn’t as if he really cared. 

The customer and the barista had some light conversation - just some small talk - and then Akaashi heard some feet scuffling across the floor. Then it stopped suddenly. 

“Birdy?”

_No. You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, oh my god, please don’t let it be him, plea-_

Akaashi looked up.

“Ah. Bokuto-san.” 

 

They talked for the rest of the night. Akaashi wished they didn’t. How could Bokuto possibly come back into his life, especially since Akaashi was doing perfectly fine without him? How incredibly selfish (of Bokuto? Or was Akaashi being the selfish one?)

Akaashi wished he hadn’t been invited to Bokuto’s apartment, wished he hadn’t spent the night in the same bed as him, naked and so vulnerable. Akaashi wished he didn’t need to wake up at dawn to slip out of his home without saying a single word. 

Later, that day, near noon, when he went to headquarters, he looked up the rest of the Predator members in the system. When he saw all the names, Akaashi faltered. 

_Ushijima Wakatoshi: Status: Alive._

__

__

Shirabu Kenjirou: Status: Alive.

_Semi Eita: Status: Alive._

“How…?” Akaashi hadn’t remembered seeing any of these members two months ago, when he had been asked by Bokuto. All he saw was Tendou Satori, even when Akaashi had returned to the system after killing him off, just to make sure the rest were all dead. How could so many of them slip under his grasp? How foolish could he have been?

If his bosses were to find out about this, he would be demoted - or even worse, kicked out the network entirely. All his privileges, gone. 

Akaashi would have none of it. 

He found them, looked at them in the eyes. (Waited for them to beg for mercy, expecting him to let them go because he was never a fan of doing this.)

Then he shot them all in the head.

.  
. 

_Dear ‘Horned Owl’ from ‘Predator’,_

_I’m deeply sorry, but all members of your organisation are officially dead. I’m sure you had already known that, considering that I told you they were dead, but it was a lie. Tendou Satori, Ushijima Wakatoshi, Shirabu Kenjirou, Semi Eita, all the friends from your previous group, were alive at the time of our first meeting. They are no longer, due to me having killed them._

_Why, you might ask? Simply because I felt like it. I did not see the worth of keeping such garbage, considering you were still looking for them. Had the five of you reunited, you would’ve revived the late Predator, also known as the biggest threat to ‘Aviary’. It was a strategic solution, I’m sure you understand._

_However, the head of Aviary would like to make use of the 24-hour period of immunity, and they’ve sent me to discuss the conditions with you. Be at the abandoned warehouse near the Ochanomizu station, sunset, on Tuesday._

_Nightingale._

.  
. 

The door creaked open, but Akaashi didn’t bother looking up. He already knew who it was.

“Horned Owl. Pleased to see that you’ve come.” 

“Yeah yeah. Screw the pleasantries, Birdy. Deal’s off the table. I’m here to kill you.” He said, rather loudly - shakily, even. Akaashi heard him cock his gun, but he did not move.

“We’ve already gone through with the deal. At this very moment, _Aviary_ is in the East wing of Tokyo, unrestrained. There are no _Predators_ to hunt us down, considering the very last one is in this room.” Finally, Akaashi looked up and the sight of a rattled, ripped up and tossed to the streets Bokuto almost made him smile. 

(But why? Did he enjoy seeing this man sad? The single man that he felt he could actually love?) 

“And no, you won’t kill me, because you cannot. You are not a killer, Bokuto-san.” 

A beat of silence, one where Bokuto moved his hand slightly, and Akaashi doubted every single one of his actions leading up to this very moment. Maybe Bokuto would end up killing him, and then what? He would be wrong, and he would’ve lived a life of regret. 

But then, Bokuto dropped his gun; it clattered on the floor, loudly, and the sound echoed in the vacant room. “You’re right, Birdy. Let’s talk.”

Akaashi didn’t say anything. He knew that Bokuto would surrender - or rather, give up, but he didn’t expect that the next steps would be so hard. He reached for his holster, and took out his gun, cocked it. Pointed it to an unsuspecting predator. “No, you’re wrong, Bokuto-san. I’m going to kill you, and _Aviary_ is going to take over the entirety of East Tokyo.”

Akaashi expected protests, begging, empty promises of _please, I’ll give you Predator, the command will be yours entirely, you would become untouchable_ , but not for Bokuto to smile. Not for Bokuto to look down at the floor, laugh like he’d never been sadder in his life, and for him to stare back at Akaashi with such a sadness and longing in his eyes.

“Okay.”

“T-that’s it? You’re just going to let me shoot you, just like that?” _Please protest. Tell me to stop what I’m doing, because I would, god, I would, because it’s you and I don’t think I can do this, not to you._

“It’s what you need to do,” Akaashi heard Bokuto’s voice tremble, and it took him a moment to realize that Bokuto was crying. It was just his luck that Bokuto wasn’t an ugly crier, but more of a person of sniffles and red cheeks. “But can I ask for two favors, Birdy? ‘S nothing sketchy, promise.”

Akaashi’s hand, the one with the gun, started to tremble, even if just barely. “What?”

“Tell me your name, Birdy. Your real one, please. I’m not wired, promise.”

A pause. 

“Akaashi Keiji.”

Another pause, and Bokuto smiled. “‘S a nice name. Mine’s Koutarou.”

Bokuto Koutarou. Akaashi liked that name. He wished that Bokuto hadn’t told him that name. It made this much more real. Much more emotional. He wished he could’ve, one day, been able to say that name with a smile on his face.

“Keiji, last favor.” Bokuto’s voice had stopped trembling, miraculously. “Can you tell me you love me? Convincingly, please. I want to believe your lie.” 

There was a long moment of silence in which Akaashi only stared. He was at lost for words. How could he? How could this man be so incredibly selfish? How dare he? How dare he make Akaashi confess? That would make it so much more real - so much harder to get over.

Akaashi realized he was crying, and fortunately, Akaashi was a pretty clean crier. No runny noses, or red cheeks and puffy eyes, but he unfortunately cried a lot of tears. It would get all over his chest, and his sleeves would get wet from wiping his eyes so much. 

“Don’t worry, Koutarou. I wouldn’t be lying.”

Akaashi pulled the trigger.

_“I love you.”_

**Author's Note:**

> yell about hq s4 with me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/akaaqshi)


End file.
